Butler's sorrow
by professionalprimadonna
Summary: Poole has to stand by and watch as his master loses what he holds most dear through his own rashness.


"Henry, that's insane! You're going to kill yourself with what you're trying to do! That idea is __freaky__!"  
Dr. Jekyll's arm moved with lightning speed. Before the butler knew what had happened, Dr. Lanyon was on the floor, clutching a bleeding nose (obviously broken).  
__Why must my master have such a short temper?__  
"You shut the bloody hell up, you ignorant philistine. You know nothing – nothing! You're just a pedant, a hide-bound pedant! You claim to know me, but you know __nothing__ about me or about science at all! And then you have the nerve to call my ideas 'freaky? Well, I have news for you! The only freaky thing here are your eyes!"  
The smaller man's mismatched eyes widened.  
The butler winced.  
Icy silence filled the room.  
Dr. Lanyon stood slowly.  
When Poole saw the look in the man's eyes, he knew: his master had gone too far this time.  
"My eyes are __freaky__, huh?", the auburn-haired man echoed blankly. His voice was a little nasal from his nose being broken.  
Dr. Jekyll now seemed to finally realise what he had just done.  
"Hastie … I-"  
"And on top of that, you break my nose?"  
"I … I …"  
"You hurt me."  
Dr. Lanyon's voice was quiet and hoarse with pain.  
"You promised me that you would never hurt me."  
He began to tremble, although whether it was with hurt or with anger, Poole wasn't sure.  
The taller blond – his master – began to stammer again, but the smaller would have none of it.  
"Save it, Dr. Jekyll. Nothing you could say or do will ever make this alright. I'm leaving."  
The older man turned to leave.  
Now Poole's master finally regained his speech.  
"Hastie, wait – I-I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have said that, please don't go – please! I'm sorry, I-"  
The auburn-haired doctor whirled around.  
"ARE YOU? ARE YOU, JEKYLL?! BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU SAY EVERY TIME! EVERY! DAMN! TIME! THAT'S IT! I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE, I'VE HAD ENOUGH!"  
The butler never would have pinned Dr. Lanyon to be able to yell so loudly. He was quite convinced, that his ears would be ringing for hours …  
Dr. Jekyll grabbed the other's hand. "Love, please-"  
"DON'T TOUCH ME!", the smaller man shrieked and slapped him so hard, that he staggered.  
Poole made a mental note to get a steak. His master's cheek would certainly be red and burning later.  
Dr. Lanyon continued coldly: "And don't call me 'Love'. It's such an empty word coming from you. I'm done with your crap, once and for all. It's over."  
Then he rushed off.  
Dr. Jekyll just stood in the middle of the room, completely paralised.  
Poole fought the urge to shake his master thoroughly and yell at him to run after the other.  
He knew that the blond loved the auburn-haired man, that he needed him, regardless of how inappropriate their feelings for each other were.  
But their relationship had been so awfully toxic. It was a miracle that Lanyon hadn't left the younger man much sooner.  
"Master?", the butler spoke up gingerly.  
Dr. Jekyll turned to him.  
Poole didn't like how empty the younger's brown eyes were. Right now, Henry Jekyll – the man, whom he had served for thirty years now – was completely dead on the inside.  
The butler took his master's hand and guided him to his bedroom.  
It was late. Perhaps the Doctor would feel better or at least have a clearer head after a good night's sleep.  
Dr. Jekyll didn't struggle, as the older man helped him out of his clothes. He just behaved like a puppet. It was frightening.  
"Tomorrow is another day, Sir", Poole tried to comfort him. Even though he knew that it was in vain.  
The blond didn't react. He just let his butler coax him into bed gently.  
However, as soon as the forty-year-old was tucked in, he startled his older butler by grabbing his arm.  
"Poole … __Arthur__."  
The butler's heart twisted, when the doctor addressed him by his given name. Looking into the younger's teary eyes, he saw nothing but distress and anguish.  
"Arthur", he whimpered, "This time I really messed it all up, didn't I?"  
Then he broke down.  
In that moment, he reminded the butler so much of the unhappy, lonely ten-year-old boy he had been, when they had first met.  
Poole sighed sadly, took his master in his arms and let him weep into his shoulder.  
If only there was something he could do.  
But there was nothing he could do.  
He was just the butler, after all.


End file.
